


Fix You

by my_proof_is_you



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M, Facial scar, Feelings of Inadequacy, Fluff, More characters to be added, More tags to be added, Slow Burn, Smut, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-02 01:42:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17878703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/my_proof_is_you/pseuds/my_proof_is_you
Summary: You’re broken. You know this. And as many times as you’ve told yourself that it made you unlovable, dysfunctional, and flawed—you still found yourself feeling hopeful when you met Dean Winchester.





	1. Chapter 1

If there was an award for the unluckiest person in the world, you’d probably win.

Scratch that, you wouldn’t. Because ironically enough, you have to have luck to win things.

You hopped out of the lemon of a sedan you had stolen only two days before and kicked the door shut hard with your foot. The silver paint was rusting off and the windshield was cracked—some signs you should have noticed when choosing your target, apparently.

Inconspicuously stealing cars was hard enough. Did you also have to always pick the ones that are on the verge of total engine failure?

You huffed a sigh and slung your canvas backpack onto your shoulder, dragging your feet and kicking up dust on the road as you walked toward the nearest hint of civilization. You could see signs for fast food up ahead, the once-brightly-colored plastic now faded from the sun—hovering above several boring brick buildings. 

You breathed in the scent of fresh air mixed with french fries as you walked, your stomach grumbling at the thought of food.

You pulled out your phone, opening the map app and checking how far you were from the hunt you had planned to arrive at tonight.

_Well, that’s not happening without wheels._

After walking for about five minutes you reached the small strip of restaurants and shady-looking convenience stores. You decided to forgo greasy burgers, instead ducking into a small diner that promised “the fluffiest flapjacks around.”

You seated yourself as the small sign at the register suggested. You chose a booth by the window and sat so your right side was facing outside. You folded your legs under you and pulled out your laptop to continue researching the case.

“What can I get ya, hon?” Without looking up from your computer you answered the waitress quickly.

“Coffee, pancakes, fries. Please and thank you.”

You heard the waitress huff out a small chuckle but ignored it.

Time went by quickly when you were absorbed in werewolf lore and before you knew it your food was placed in front of you.

“Thank you,” you said, looking at the waitress out of the side of your eye. You saw in your periphery that she was an older woman, probably in her late fifties. She gave you a smile, the wrinkles around her eyes becoming prominent as she muttered something about “kids and their technology” while walking away.

You rolled your eyes to yourself. _I’m not a kid._

In fact you were in your late twenties, but you were sure you hadn’t been a kid since you were about seven anyway.

You ate slowly, still scrolling through your computer. You let your long Y/H/C hair fall over the right side of your face as was your habit.

You got the sudden feeling that someone was watching you. You peered up through your eyelashes to see a man sitting one booth away. He was facing you, the other side of his booth unoccupied as well. He smiled, and you felt a small blush rise to your cheeks.

He was cute, and you found yourself smiling back at him, which was not something you would normally do. He had jet black hair and eyes that were almost dark enough to match. He had dimples in his cheeks, and before you could even react, he was getting up to come talk to you.

He sat across from you and smiled again, reaching out his hand.

“I’m Jake,” he said in a friendly tone. You were so thrown off by his approach that you forgot yourself for a moment, reaching up and tucking your hair behind your ear before shaking his hand.

“Y/N,” you said. You barely got your name out before you saw it. It was the same reaction everyone had: shock followed by an attempt to mask their feelings of disgust.

“Uh, nice to meet you, Y/N,” he said. You didn’t believe him for a second. “I, uh, actually forgot that I have somewhere to be and I’m late.”

He exited the booth without another word. The whole interaction had lasted less than thirty seconds. You threw money on the table, packed up your bag and headed to the bathroom. You leaned over the sink, throwing water on your face to cool it down. You looked in the mirror after drying it with a paper towel.

Emotionless eyes—one Y/E/C, one cloudy blue—stared back at you. You used your finger to lightly trace the line down the right side of your face—the one that split your eyebrow down the middle. The one that stretched all the way down to your chin. The one whose creation had also taken the sight in your right eye.

The one that caused “cute-guy-Jake” to flee immediately when he saw it.


	2. Chapter 2

“So, you get into hunting like the rest of us? Some monster kill someone you love?” he asked, crossing his ankles and leaning back while he sipped on his glass of whiskey. You had followed the ‘67 Impala you were admiring earlier to a bar on the outskirts of town. It was a little seedy, but that was something you were used to.

You quietly cleared your throat, picking at the label on your beer. “No, my uh, my family died at the hands of a drunk driver.”

“That sucks,” Dean replied. It didn’t sound insincere or flippant, though. You could tell he meant it. And when you met his gaze you found pity and understanding there. 

“I bounced around from foster home to foster home from the age of seven to eighteen. Then I fell ass-backwards into hunting when a werewolf gave me this nice trophy,” you said, gesturing to your scar. 

The brothers nodded in understanding. Sam had that same empathetic look on his face as before. Dean, however, was regarding the scar with his eyes as if it were some kind of trophy or a battle scar. You blushed involuntarily and looked away, continuing your quest to remove the beer label. 

“Do you have any sight left in your eye?” Sam asked cautiously.

You gave him a small smile. People didn’t usually ask you about your scar or your eye. In fact, they usually pretended it wasn’t there because it made them uncomfortable. 

“No,” you said, your eyes shifting down. “The werewolf’s claws tore too deep for my eye to be repaired.”

“Well I’ll tell you one thing,” Dean began, lifting his glass toward you, “you’re still one hell of shot.”

You lifted your bottle to meet his glass and and clinked them together. “It wasn’t always that way,” you said. “When all this happened I had never even held a gun. So along with learning how to use one, I had to learn to adjust to my lack of depth perception. With everything, actually.”

Dean’s mouth lifted in a half smile. 

“What?” you asked him, your own mouth curving up a little.

“Nothin’...I guess I’m just picturing you reaching for things and missing and tripping over stuff you thought was further away. It’s kinda funny,” he replied.

You found yourself chuckling, the action a foreign feeling in your throat. “Yeah, it was sorta like a bad sitcom for a while. Lots of physical comedy.”

“You know what that reminds me of?” Sam said, a smile on his face, too. “That time we lost that lucky rabbit’s foot and we were fumbling around like idiots.”

The brothers chuckled and you looked at them with questioning eyes, a smile still on your face, too. 

“Yeah,” Dean said, answering your silent question. “Turns out the thing was cursed…”

He went on to tell the rest of the story as well as a few others. It was great hearing about their funny experiences on the job. Hunting was generally a sad occupation that ended in death. Swapping funny stories with the boys made it seem a little better, though.

Before you knew it, it had grown late. Sam had left about an hour before to head back to the motel where you were all staying, and you and Dean had stayed at the bar, telling more stories and getting to know each other. The bartender made last call and the the two of you stumbled out into the cool air, opting to walk the few blocks to the motel. 

You remembered walking to your door. You remembered laughing a lot. You remembered Dean’s smile. Other than that, though, the next morning you found your mind to be empty. What was not empty, however, was your bed.

No...that was filled by Dean Winchester. 


	3. Chapter 3

_ Shit, shit, shit. _

You got out of bed quietly so as not to wake Dean and went to the bathroom after grabbing your duffel bag. 

_ Did I sleep with this guy on the first night I met him? _

You looked at yourself in the mirror and realized that you had pajamas on. 

_ Not naked. Good sign. _

Waking up in bed with a guy was pretty damning evidence, though.

You got dressed and left the bathroom, grabbing everything of yours and stuffing it in your bag, your face flushing with embarrassment every time your eyes landed on the bed. Thankfully, Dean didn’t wake up. You slipped out, walked the few blocks to the bar where you left your car, and got in, wanting to forget what you couldn’t remember. 

* * *

Once you were about an hour away, you stopped at a diner for some breakfast. You sat at your table, scrolling through the news to see if you could find a new case. After the waitress brought your coffee (which you were hoping would help with the raging hangover) you heard your phone chime. You picked it up and read the name.

_ Dean Winchester. _

You sighed.  _ Apparently we also exchanged numbers last night. Great,  _ you thought. 

_ D: i hope youre just out gettin us some coffee, sweetheart _

You rubbed a hand down your face, feeling totally awkward. 

_ Y: Listen, I gather that we had some fun last night but I’m not looking for anything serious, okay? You can relax. _

You put your phone down, pleased with your response. This way, he would have an out if he was just looking for a one-night-stand.

Your phone buzzed a few seconds later.

_ D: we did have some fun last night but i don’t think it’s the kind you’re thinking of _

You sucked in a breath.  _ We didn’t have sex?  _ You thought to yourself. 

_ D: not that I’d be opposed to that kind of fun ;) _

You had to laugh at that in spite of your embarrassment. 

_ Y: Wow, a girl gets blackout drunk and you don’t take advantage. Must be a real gentleman. _

_ D: i try. now where are you _

_ Y: Well I was colossally embarrassed when I thought I slept with you right after I met you, so I’m an hour outside of town.  _

_ D: will you come back and have breakfast with me? _

_ Y: Well I’m colossally embarrassed that I thought we had sex and we didn’t and that I fled because I thought we did so I think...no. _

_ D: please sweetheart. just wanna get to know you more. i can fill in the gaps from last night _

You paused to think about if you really wanted to see him again or if you just wanted to let this go. It wasn’t like you had a lot of friends—none, to be exact. And knowing hunters could be helpful down the line. 

_ D: i’ll even bring Sammy if it makes you feel better. no funny business _

You felt your resolve slip. He just wanted to be friends, and you could appreciate that. You told him where you were and he agreed to meet you there with Sam. Thankfully you hadn’t ordered yet, so you just sipped on coffee until they arrived. 

You didn’t miss the looks of the staff and other patrons when the boys sat down with you. You knew the looks well. It was a little different this time, though. Usually, the looks said, “wow, look at the freak’s face.” This time, they said, “wow, I can’t believe those incredibly handsome men are here with the scar-face.”

You leaned forward a little, letting your hair shade your right side of your face. After the boys sat settled in there was an awkwardly silent moment where Dean’s eyes scanned your face. Sam got up to go to the counter to “get the coffee orders in.” You knew he just wanted to give the two of you a second, though.

“Dean, I’m sor—“

“No need to apologize,” he said, interrupting you with a half-smile on his face. “Honestly, Y/N, all we did last night was talk. Then we fell asleep on your bed. Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

You felt your heart squeeze a little bit. He was being so nice and he didn’t need to be, what with you running out first thing this morning with little to no information.

_ Stop it,  _ you heard in your head. 

You shook your head a little to clear it. “Thanks, Dean.” He gave you a killer smile and you couldn’t help but smile back before you could remind yourself not to get too close to him.

The three of you ate breakfast and just chatted after that. You were surprised at how comfortable you were with them. It was rare for you to let your guard down enough to joke with people and even more rare for you to enjoy it. 

“So, Y/N, what’s next for you?” Sam asked when you were all too stuffed to eat any more pancakes. 

“I’m not sure,” you said with a shrug, finishing off your coffee. “Just start looking for another case, I guess.”

Dean looked at his brother and the two had a silent exchange that you couldn’t quite interpret.

“Well, uh, if you want, we are actually heading to another case today,” Dean said, running his hand through his hair. “It’s actually right by our home base, so if you wanted to help, you’d have a place to stay for free.”

“That’s nice, Dean, but I wouldn’t want to be a bother. If you need help with the case I can always just get another motel,” you responded. You feared he was only offering out of some kind of pity he felt for you.

“No, no, you would  _ have _ to stay with us. Trust me, you wanna see where we live,” Dean said with a devilish smirk. You weren’t sure what that meant but when Sam rolled his eyes behind Dean’s back you decided to just go with it.

“Okay, you’re on.” 

As you all got up to leave you couldn’t help but be shocked at how much your path had changed in the last twenty-four hours. Hanging out with other hunters was not something you had done before. In fact, you hadn’t really hung out with anyone in your adult life. It was scary, but something about it also felt exhilarating. 

“See if you can keep up,” Dean said with a nudge as he walked by you. You knew it would be tough keeping up with the Impala, but you decided you were up for all kinds of new challenges. 


	4. Chapter 4

When the brothers brought you to the bunker, you almost couldn’t believe your eyes.

Well...eye.

The place was huge, and the lore books seemed endless. You were geeking out, that was for sure. 

The only downer was that you had gotten injured on the hunt you went on with the boys. It was a vengeful spirit—usually not a big deal. 

It separated the three of you, though. You were in a small house owned by a cute little family. Pictures of the husband and wife and little baby girl covered the walls. The spirit was smart. It was the ghost of a man that lived in the house years prior. He had killed himself and apparently decided to stick around.

Every time one of you went through a door, the spirit sealed it shut before anyone else could get through. Sam ended up in the kitchen and you in one of the bedrooms while Dean continued searching around the house for the object to which the spirit was tethered.

It seemed the spirit would flicker in and out of the rooms it had you and Sam. You both had shotguns filled with rock salt, but they could only send the spirit away for moments. He was a nasty looking man--the way he died etched on his face forever. You almost felt for him. He had to walk the veil with a bullet hole in his head for eternity, a constant reminder of his death. 

You knew what it was like to have a constant reminder on your face. Difference was, you used that to remind you that the evil out there had to be stopped.

Unfortunately, one of the times the spirit flickered into your room, you were in the middle of loading your shotgun. He seized that opportunity pretty quick.

You flew across the room, your back and head crashing into the drywall hard enough to leave a dent in it. You slid to the ground, trying to catch your breath and blinking harshly to keep conscious. The spirit burst into flames then, as Dean had found the object and burned it. 

He came rushing in soon after, helping you carefully to your feet and slinging an arm around your waist to help you walk.

You put on a brave face in front of the hunters you barely knew. You didn’t want them thinking you couldn’t handle yourself. So when Dean showed you to the room you’d be staying in and you finally had a minute alone, you stood in front of the mirror, forgetting about where you were for the moment while you inspected your injuries. 

You carefully lifted your shirt, gasping as the motion caused a sharp pain in your side. Sure enough, the entirety of your back and left side were covered in deep purple bruises. It hurt when you breathed, and you were pretty sure your ribs were bruised or maybe even cracked. 

You used your right hand to reach behind your head, feeling where blood had mostly dried in your hair. When you pulled your hand away there was still a little wet blood, but you knew you at least didn’t need stitches. 

You heard a light knock and opened your door, Sam’s tall frame taking up most of the doorway. 

“Just wanted to give you a towel in case you wanted to wash up. Bathroom’s down the hall,” he said. 

“Thanks,” you replied, gingerly taking the scratchy white towel from him.

“You okay?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowed. 

“Yeah, totally fine,” you said, straightening up despite the protest of pain in your ribs. 

Sam’s eyes narrowed, but he nodded. “Dean’s gonna pick up some pizza. Eat in about twenty?”

“Perfect,” you responded, heading down the hall toward the bathroom. You tried to walk as tall as possible. You weren’t sure why, but you found yourself caring what these brothers thought of you. 

You showered slowly and carefully, trying to let the hot water soothe your muscles. When you were done you slipped on some leggings and a long flannel, brushing out your hair before heading toward the kitchen. 

You could smell the pizza the second you entered and headed right for the table. You were so hungry that you weren’t thinking. You sat down too quickly and hissed in pain. Unfortunately, Dean was right across from you. 

“Y/N, you okay?” he asked after he swallowed a bite of pizza. 

“Yeah, yeah, you know, just sore from the hunt.” He didn’t respond but you could tell he didn’t believe you. You shrugged it off, too hungry to care. 

After four pieces of pizza you were stuffed. Sam had finished after one piece and a side salad and went to do research. You sighed before looking across the table to see Dean smirking at you. 

“What?” you asked. 

“Nothin,” he said with a chuckle. “Just like when a girl can eat.”

You blushed a little, letting your hair fall over the right side of your face as you looked at the ground. 

“Hey, uh, I wanted to tell you...you kicked some serious ghost ass today,” Dean said, drawing your eyes back up to meet his. 

“Thanks but I think it was more the ghost that did the ass-kicking,” you said, wringing your hands in your lap. 

“The situation wasn’t exactly great. Considering you were locked in a room with it, I think you did pretty well.”

You blushed again, looking back at the floor. You weren’t used to anyone complimenting you, let alone Dean Winchester about your hunting skills. 

_ He probably just feels sorry for you. _

You closed your eyes, sure your inner voice was right. 

“Uh, thanks. Hey, I’m gonna head to bed. I’m exhausted,” you said, leaving the table. 

“Oh...okay,” Dean replied. Was he...disappointed?

_ Definitely not.  _

You went to bed but slept horribly, the pain in your ribs making it hard to breathe. When you did sleep, though, you dreamed in flashes of Sam and Dean, monsters, and your own reflection staring at you.


	5. Chapter 5

You looked at your phone and were shocked when you saw that you had ten missed calls and several voicemails.

_ Who even has my number? _

You listened to the messages, finding a very worried Dean had called over and over. You rolled your eyes, carefully getting into your car and heading back to the bunker.

He was on you from the second you walked in. 

“Where the hell have you been?!” Dean asked, getting in your face.

Your brows furrowed. “I found a hunt nearby. Why?”

“Why?” he asked, annoyed. “You were just gone! Didn’t even leave a note! We weren’t sure what happened to you!”

Sam stood in the background, his arms crossed. He didn’t seem as angry as his brother, but you could tell he agreed with him.

You threw your bag down. “I’m an adult, Dean. I can handle hunting on my own. I’ve done it for years!”

You woke early after sleeping poorly all night and found a ghost hunt a town over in the news on your phone. You didn’t want to wake the brothers and decided to just do the salt-and-burn on your own.

It had gone easily enough. You were only thrown by the spirit once, and though it hurt like a bitch, you were able to finish up quickly.

“Listen, Y/N, when you’re hanging with us,” Dean said, gesturing to his brother and himself, “you tell us where you’re going. I don’t know if you are aware, but the Winchesters are kind of targets for the supernatural. Like, all the time. So if something were to happen to you, it’s on us."

You understood where he was coming from. But you were a loner. You had been on your own since you were seven years old. You liked it that way.

You couldn’t help but feel your heart warm a little that the boys were worried about you, though. 

“Okay. I’m sorry, guys. I guess I’m just used to being on my own.”

Dean sighed. “It’s okay. Just...give us a head’s up next time. Plus, I will probably wanna come with you,” he said, a smirk appearing on his lips. 

You felt yourself smile back. It was short lived, though, when you felt a sharp pain shoot through you. It was like you were being stabbed. You clutched your middle and fell to the floor, curling in on yourself. 

“Y/N?! Y/N!” Dean yelled, kneeling beside you and trying to find what was hurting you. “Sam, call Cas!” he yelled to his brother, who you heard leave the room immediately. 

“Y/N, sweetheart, let me see,” he said, trying to pry your hands away from your abdomen. You let go slowly, trying to breathe through the pain. 

He lifted your shirt, gasping when he saw the black and blue bruises covering your ribcage. 

“Y/N, why didn’t you tell us?” he asked, almost more to himself. You were in no position to answer anyway. 

A few moments later you heard Sam come into the room, a man in a trenchcoat on his heels. 

“Cas, can you fix her?” Dean asked, holding your hand as you hissed in pain. 

The man walked toward you and knelt down before touching two fingers to your head. In an instant, the pain was gone. You looked down at your stomach to see your skin was its normal color. 

“W-What?” you asked, looking at the trench-coated man in awe. 

“Cas is an angel. Literally,” Sam said with a smile. Your eyes widened. You heard about angels being real, but to see one in person…

“Well, thank you, Cas,” you said as you stood up. 

“Your ribs were broken. It was very easy to fix. You are welcome.”

He gave you a small smile and disappeared. You turned to Dean who was looking like he might strangle you if it wouldn’t hurt you more. 

“What?” you asked, playing dumb. 

“Broken ribs?” he asked, seething.

“So? Haven’t you ever gotten hurt in the line of fire?” you asked.

“Of course I have! But we asked you if you were okay, and you lied! Then you went on another hunt and made things worse!”

“I’m fine, Dean!” you yelled back at him.

“Yeah, thanks to Cas. Is this how you act when you’re alone? What if we weren’t here?!”

“Then I’d go to the hospital like normal people who don’t have an angel in their pocket do! Besides, why do you even care?”

“I just...do,” he replied. He huffed, turning away from you and heading to the kitchen. 

You sighed, not really sure what had just happened. 

“You are both so stubborn,” Sam commented before leaving the room as well. 

You stood there alone, annoyed--but unsure of if it was at yourself or at Dean.


End file.
